


Sleeper mission: Russia, 1918

by a_walking_shadow



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, You Have Been Warned, somewhat graphic descriptions of an historical event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 14:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_walking_shadow/pseuds/a_walking_shadow
Summary: The Doctor, Ryan, Yaz, and Graham go to investigate a historical murder mystery, and stumble into something slightly bigger.





	Sleeper mission: Russia, 1918

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elden-12](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=elden-12).



> This was written about 6 months ago after a discussion with elden-12 on Tumblr, and has been sitting on my computer ever since, because for some reason I didn't get around to actually posting it.   
> The idea, because he explains it concisely better than I can: "the CIA had a sort of group that killed themselves to regenerate looking like historical figures who'd been wiped out by time travel shenanigans and taking their place", which was apparently a discarded idea for the Big Finish audio "The Kingmaker".

‘Well, I’m not asking her.’

‘Come on, Yaz, it’ll be great!’

‘No way. Ask her yourself.’

Graham coughs slightly, and both Ryan and Yaz jump at the interruption. ‘What’s got you two so worked up, then? Because if you’re planning to ambush the Doc over something, I feel like I should know about it beforehand.’

Ryan hesitates, looking slightly guilty, so Yaz jumps in. ‘Apparently, Ryan’s decided that the best thing to do with a time machine is tackle a bunch of episodes of _Buzzfeed Unsolved._ ’

‘Hey! That’s not what I said at all!’

‘Isn’t it? Face it, Ryan, the only reason you’re asking this is because you want some cool new content for your YouTube channel.’

‘I mean, that’d be great. But don’t tell me you aren’t at least curious about some of this! You’re a policewoman, Yaz. Surely tracking down missing people or solving murders or something would be pretty interesting.’

Graham heaves a sigh, shifting his gaze from Yaz to his grandson and back again. He’s pretty sure that what Ryan just said is true, but Yaz is far too stubborn to admit it. ‘What, exactly, were you thinking of? Because if it’s something sensible then I can ask her.’

‘Really, Gramps? Thanks! First one I wanted to do- and it isn’t a _Buzzfeed Unsolved_ case, thanks Yaz- is the whole Romanov dynasty thing. You know, how there were all the rumours that Anastasia got out of alive?’

‘Didn’t they solve that?’

‘Kind of, yeah, but it took decades. What if one of those imposters really was her?’

Graham hesitates. ‘I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Ryan. You’re talking about someone surviving an execution, I doubt they’ll be too happy if people show up and start asking questions. And even if the poor girl has survived, drawing attention to it can’t help.’

‘Look, we don’t have to go to the execution itself, all right? We can arrive a bit later, check if she’s buried with the rest of them or something. We’ve got a time machine. Who knows, maybe the Doctor knows a way to check this out without putting us in any danger.’

Graham pauses, considering, but Ryan looks so hopeful. ‘All right’, he mutters, ‘but when we get shot at, I reserve the right to say I told you so.’ He heads towards the console room anyway.

‘Anastasia Romanov, eh?’ The Doctor asks, popping up from behind the console then disappearing again like one of the targets in a game of whack-a-mole. ‘Course we can! You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met Anastasia. Her mother called me the oddest man she’d ever met once, though. Hah! I wonder what she’d think of me now!’

‘That’s, uh, great. We were wondering- well, Ryan was wondering- if there was any way she could have survived. You know, since there were all the theories and people claiming to be her.’

The Doctor pauses. This time, when she emerges from behind the console, it’s at a far more measured pace. ‘We can’t change that, Ryan,’ she says. ‘Bad things happen to people who interfere with time. If it turns out she died, we can’t go and try and change it.’

‘I know that. But it’s nice to know for certain one way or another, right?’

‘Not always,’ the Doctor replies, heavily. ‘Hope is usually better. But I’m just as curious as you are.’

‘So what does this one do, then? Bullet proof? That’d be a handy one.’

‘This one, Graham, is a perception filter. Not bulletproof, unfortunately. Remind me to find a way to extend a state of temporal grace beyond the TARDIS doors… Perception filters are the next best thing.’ She dashes around the console again, coat flying behind her, then faces them, clearly in lecture mode.

‘You see, if I’m not wearing one-’ The Doctor pauses, staring at them, then darts forward and takes Ryan by the shoulders, shifting him two steps to the left, so that he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with Graham and Yaz has a clear view of what’s going on. With a contented nod, she skips backwards with all the elegance and steadiness of a newborn fawn, but, by some miracle, manages to remain upright.

‘You see, if I’m not wearing one, then you see me normally, right? Here I am, getting into things I’m not supposed to, and some people like to shoot first and ask questions later. Terrible philosophy. Obviously, that could be a problem. Except, with a perception filter-’   
  
She slips the device over her head and lets it fall against her chest. No sooner has she done so than Yaz feels her eyes slip sideways, almost like they don’t want to acknowledge that there’s anything, or anyone, in front of her. The Doctor is speaking again, and it takes a gargantuan effort to focus on her. Even so, Yaz gets barely one word in five.

‘shifts - tiny bit- unnoticed- Great-?’

The Doctor pulls it off again, and Yaz shakes her head slightly to clear it.

‘And you just tore a bunch of wires out of the TARDIS to make those?’

‘Oh, the old girl doesn’t mind. It’s not like she’s been using it anyway, chameleon circuit’s been broken for years.’ She pats the console affectionately.

‘All right, here’s what’s happening’, the Doctor says, when they’ve landed. ‘I had a bit of trouble getting here, but we’ve made it to the day after the recorded execution of the Romanovs. I was aiming for the day before, but hit a bit of a roadblock. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone was trying very, very hard to keep time travellers from interfering in this bit.’

‘People can do that? Just… block off access to time travel?’

‘Oh, easily. Time loops and time locks are child’s play, and they’ll do the trick for your average traveller. Stopping a TARDIS is a bit harder, but with the right technology, it’s still possible. Not many people have the ability though. I wonder…’

‘The plan, Doctor?’ Yaz prompts, when it looks like the Doctor’s lost track of her train of thoughts entirely.

‘Yes! Right! Plan. Well, we’re not too far from Yekaterinburg, and according to the records, it’s quite close to here that the bodies of the royal family are discovered, in about seventy years. So. We spread out, keep an eye out for anyone moving about tonight.’

Yaz nods. ‘I just googled it- apparently it was a pretty big military operation, so if we see people, it’s probably connected to the tsars somehow. Most of the family is in one grave, two others about sixty metres away. So we’re probably looking for two teams.’

Graham looks about ready to turn around and go back to bed. Ryan claps him on the shoulder. ‘You with us, Grandad?’

He straightens. ‘Looks like it.’

‘I think it’s here.’ The Doctor’s voice is quiet, but still carries easily, and the other three are at her side within moments. Sure enough, the ground beneath her boots has clearly been disturbed recently, with several sets of tire tracks and a mess of footprints.   
There are several piles of dirt in front of her, all roughly the right size to contain humans in shallow graves.

The Doctor’s face is unreadable, but there’s something in her eyes which promises absolute hell if the people responsible for this haven’t gotten around to fleeing the scene yet. Yaz, Ryan and Graham all look sick, like they can’t quite believe they asked to come see this.

‘They didn’t even bury them properly,’ Yaz whispers. Even that seems far too loud. ‘They killed a whole family, and couldn’t even be bothered to give them a proper burial.’

‘Wait,’ Ryan hisses. ‘Can you hear that?’

‘Hear what?’ Graham asks, tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of them, but then it rings out again, shattering the silence.

‘Doctor?’ No response. ‘Doctor? There’s someone here. And- and it sounds like they’re digging.’

Her head snaps up, then turns towards the source. Sure enough, there’s the distinctive, repetitive scrape of soil on metal.

Without bothering to check if they’re following, the Doctor starts to run.

There is a man standing in a hollow, wearing black and white, with a shovel in hand. There is another figure, all in white, lurking in darkness beyond him. The first man has a shovel in his hands. There is something worryingly human-shaped in a bundle at his feet, and two and a half piles of soil, smaller than the ones they found before.

There is a woman in blue balanced on the edge of the tree line like a bird about to take flight, toes of her boots curled down and body angled to stop her momentum from carrying her further forward. She has blonde hair falling over her eyes, completely failing to hide the fire blazing inside, and three friends positioned so that they can’t see her fury directly. 

The man glances up at their arrival, hand falling to his waist automatically. Then he catches sight of the Doctor, and scowls. ‘What are _you_ doing here?’

‘Oh, we thought we’d check in on all those rumours about the Romanov Dynasty surviving today.’ Her voice is steady, measured, and somehow that’s even more terrifying than if she had screamed herself hoarse. ‘Must be onto something, if the CIA is involved.’

The man snorts, but keeps digging. ‘Well, it’s handled. You can toddle off in that antique of yours and interfere somewhere else. You and your… friends.’

‘You know, I don’t think we will. Not if you and _your_ friends seem to think it’s a good idea to desecrate the grave site of a couple of murdered kids.’

‘You… You really don’t know what’s going on here, do you?’

‘Oh, I think I can guess. The temporal barriers would have been you, of course.’

‘Oh, go on. Wow us with your deductive skills.’ He keeps digging, either unaware of the Doctor’s increasing ire with every shovel load, or willing to ignore it.

‘Why do you want her? What could you possibly need her for?’

‘Would you even believe me if I said this was a rescue mission?’

‘Probably not, no. You got proof of that?’

‘How about you wait and find out?’

She scowls, glaring, but the man ignores her. He goes to shovel another handful of dirt, but stops, hitting something- then crouches down and begins digging with his hands, gradually revealing what looks like charred skin with surprising gentleness.   
The Doctor, apparently unwilling to interfere directly, just huffs and slumps against a nearby tree.

‘You said he was CIA?’

‘Celestial Intervention Agency. Not your CIA, Ryan, although I’m sure the name is deliberate. Like to think of themselves as the guardians of the time stream, no matter the cost. Not a nice group to cross.’

‘You’d know, wouldn’t you, Doctor? I seem to recall you were one of our best field agents. Before my time, of course. We tend to avoid using renegades, now.’

‘I find that hard to believe. And it’s not like I was ever willing. It was great when I thought you lot were all dead, actually. No one around to abduct me and send me to do their dirty work.’ She pauses, glances at the dirt staining his robes. ‘Literally, in this case.’

The Romanov girl- for that is, undoubtedly, who was buried in the grave- has been exhumed, now, and the man stands up, glancing back at the second figure. Slowly, gracefully, the figure shifts forwards. They look insubstantial, wraith-like- an appearance which isn’t exactly dispelled when they merge into the body of the girl, features blurring.

The Doctor gasps, gaze flickering between the now softly glowing body and the man, now smirking in her direction. ‘She’s a Time Lord?’

‘One of our sleeper agents. Usually, we have them stationed to take over the lives of famous historical figures who've been kidnapped, vaporised and the like by time travellers. Anastasia here’s a bit of a weird one, people kept trying to save her life. Couldn’t let that happen, obviously. The damage that her not dying could cause to the web of time… well, Doctor, I’m sure you remember what that could do. That Pollard girl of yours caused all sorts of problems.’

‘So you just, what. Seed planet Earth with undercover agents? If I wasn’t paranoid before…’ Ryan mutters, but the man ignores him, keeping his gaze firmly on the Doctor.

‘Our operative had the same job as usual. Take over her life, prevent anyone from interfering too dramatically in the time stream. It takes up a regen, but it’s a damn good way to get a promotion.’

‘And the real Anastasia?’ Yaz asks.

‘Here, of course.’ He nudges the human-shaped sack on the ground with one foot. ‘She’s a bit younger than she’s supposed to be. I got a bit bored watching her, honestly. May have done my job a bit early. It won’t matter too much, though. They won’t have the techniques to tell her age to that level. In fact, they might not even be able to work out which of the sisters she is.’

‘You got bored, did you?’ a new voice asks.

The figure who is now most definitely not Anastasia pulls himself to his knees. The first man passes him what looks a bit like a robe, and he pulls it on, still complaining.

‘I just spent a year and a half stuck in one pathetic building on a Level Two planet! And I couldn’t even complain about it, either, because Anastasia was supposed to be bright and cheerful! And then, hey, guess what, it’s time to die. That hurt, you know!’

‘Oh, come on. It’s not like any of the bullets even hit you!’

‘The bayonets did! And did I mention the clothes? Good lord, I’ve missed my work robes.’

The first man snorts. ‘Come on. Let’s bury the real her and get going. You can complain all you like to the Coordinator. I’m sure he’ll be very understanding.’

‘Yeah right.’

‘Let’s go. Now.’ The Doctor hisses, spinning around jerkily and marching in the direction of the TARDIS.

Ryan, Graham, and Yaz exchange a glance before falling into step behind her.

‘When you said you used to be a man… You weren’t exaggerating, were you?’ Graham hazards.

‘Of course not.’

‘And those people… they’re members of your species?’

‘They’re Time Lords, yes, for all that it matters.’

‘Time Lords?’ Yaz queries. ‘That’s a bit pretentious, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, they’re the epitome of pretentiousness, Yaz. Always have been.’

They fall silent again. In the distance, they can hear laughter coming from the two figures. Yaz clenches her fists. They’re supposed to be burying a body. Surely they should show more respect than this.

‘He said-’ Ryan stops. Hesitates. Starts again. ‘He said you worked for them.’

‘Hardly willingly. I don’t tend to take well to following orders.’

‘No’, Graham mutters. ‘I doubt you would.’ The Doctor says nothing, and they walk the rest of the way to the TARDIS in silence.


End file.
